


Ace

by likeabomb



Series: HQTransWeek2021 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming Out, Found Family, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Nonbinary Character, The rest of Shiratorizawa is here too, Trans Male Character, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29203245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeabomb/pseuds/likeabomb
Summary: Goshiki Tsutomu joins the Shiratorizawa team, and is floored to find out there are people like him here.
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: HQTransWeek2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137155
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42
Collections: HQ!! Trans Week 2021





	Ace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #hqtransweek on Twitter and Tumblr!  
> Crossposted to my [writing Twitter](https://twitter.com/likeabomb_), come say hi!
> 
> Day 4+5: Sports + Found Family

Most people who try out for the Shiratorizawa volleyball team not only don’t make it far enough to get a uniform, but hardly ever make it far enough to be considered in the year’s trials for who the starting line up will be. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that Goshiki is good, and earned this chance through hard work and an impressive form, but that doesn’t change the fact that he looks somewhat mortified to be standing there in the uniform.

Coach Washijo is a lot of things.

He’s the sting of red skin and the quiver in weak knees and the stubborn tack left behind from sports tape.

He’s clammy hands and cold sweat and the scream that wakes players up in the middle of the night gasping.

He’s the inferiority complex and imposter syndrome that creeps into every player’s gut sooner or later.

But one thing he’s not, to the shock of many, is someone who’ll berate a player for their identity. Whether it’s who they are as a person, or who they’re interested in. So long as the most important focus is the team, and the games, and winning above all else, he couldn’t care less.

In truth, it means he holds little to no regard for his team as people, but sometimes that’s better than the belittlement they might get otherwise. Especially when the team can find reassurance in each other behind his back.

They all work and play on a damn good team. A winning team. An  _ unstoppable _ team. And it’s all built from their blood, sweat, and tears, and their own teamwork, even if it’s overseen by someone with selfish intentions.

So when the gym fills with a huge crop of bright eyed players hoping to get their shot at making the team, the team steels themselves for the lashes of guilt that will come. It always hurts to see the prospective dreams crushed under Washijo’s unforgiving heel, but they have no say in who does and doesn’t make the team. If he sees no worth and potential in a player, they’re gone the very same day. It’s how it is every year, and there’s no one who’s seen it more than Ushijima Wakatoshi.

There is one player, though, that catches his eye. Once he sees him, he can’t take his eyes off him. He has a confident smirk on his face when he comes into the gym, even if he stands towards the back, and the set of his jaw is too tight.

“He’s nervous,” Reon supplies from his right. He’d picked up on this student as well.

“I would be surprised if he wasn’t. This is a very big deal.”

“Don’t go easy on them now,” he reminds Ushijima, a hand settling on his shoulder.

Ushijima nods slowly. He knows that if they slack, regardless of when or why, Washijo will bring down the hammer, and as much as he wishes the process were a little different, he understands that if they don’t give it their all in a practice match against these new stars, Washijo won’t be able to pick out those he thinks are worthy.

At the end of the day, they all bend a knee to the way he decides the structure of the team, because they don’t really have a choice in the matter. They’ve lost players because of Washijo’s iron fist and unfair tactics, but those who were still here understood in their own ways, their place in that structure.

And Ushijima always feels the lick of acid up his throat when he’s reminded that he is the spearhead. He is the weapon, ultimately, and the team must learn to wield him. He knows that as the primary offense the team is structured around, Washijo's diamond in the rough, he weighs heavily on the rest of the team. He hopes, now and again, that he is as dependable and useful as he is a force to be reckoned with.

Four sets later and Washijo is satisfied with the notes he’s been dictating to coach Saito beside him.

The current line up trades towels and water bottles and heads into the locker room with a solemn air about them while Washijo explains the situation. The third years have heard it twice now, and the second years had the rude awakening themselves the year before when they’d been those hungry dreamers.

“You will all return back here tomorrow. By then I’ll have made my decision. If you do not meet my standards, I will not accept your application to the club. I don’t have time to coddle children who’ll be useless to the team.”

The first years glance at each other. Some are uncertain, some are alarmed, and some are upset. They’d known it was going to be difficult, but those four sets had been brutal, and now most of them aren’t even going to make it into the club, let alone the team?

It’s like all the wind gets taken out from under the wings they’ve just dared to spread.

As soon as they’re let go, and they enter the locker room to change, it’s a rabble of commotion and yelling. At each other, at Washijo’s name, at how unfair they feel the situation is.

One young man is already sitting on the end of one of the benches crying.

Off to the side at the end of one of the rows of lockers, Ushijima approaches the student who’d caught his eye before. He doesn’t look upset. He isn’t yelling. His shoulders are high though, and he clutches at the towel over his shoulders.

Clearing his throat subtly, Ushijima offers him a bottle of water, and he looks up through his bangs, cut in a harsh straight line against his forehead. He stares for a moment with a tight but neutral expression before he realizes who Ushijima is and, and looks down at the bottle with wide eyes. There’s a rush that overtakes his face and he doesn’t look back up. Ushijima isn’t sure what that was. When he takes it with a careful hand, he uses his teeth to pop the spout and take a drink.

“What’s your name?”

Ushijima watches the line of his throat when he swallows hard and hands the bottle back.

“Goshiki Tsutomu. Class 1 - 4.”

He sounds as though he’s trying to speak from the chest. It makes Ushijima’s shoulders relax a little.

“You don’t seem worried,” Ushijima notes. “Typically students are shocked with Washijo-san’s strict criteria.”

Goshiki looks at the bottle, then regards his upperclassman, “I’m good.” He states it like fact. He hands the bottle back before he goes back to what he was doing. “I’m better than everyone else. I’ll make the team.”

Ushijima averts his eyes when the student starts to get changed, and consciously puts his large frame between him and the rest of the locker room. His confidence is… something else. While he’s seen pride and confidence in other players when it’s unjustified for their skills and their team, he saw this first year play. He knows he’s good. Ushijima is also confident he’ll make the team. Goshiki has the same kind of raw talent and potential that Ushijima has seen in so many others who’ve actually made the team.

It reminds him of himself.

“You should be careful. I would not advise you continue to practice in the manner you do.”

Goshiki looks up at him again, brows knit, holding his shirt in his hands.

He can hear some of the cacophony die down around them as it sinks in that there isn’t much now that they can do to change their chances. Washijo has seen all he needs, and they can’t sway him further now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finally looking back at him, despite how he’d rather give the first year privacy- it’s a locker room, and that’s not really going to happen, as much as Ushijima wishes he could do more to shield Goshiki- and perhaps himself, from prying eyes.

“You should not wear a binder while you exercise. It’s bad for your lungs.”

There’s a look that crosses Goshiki’s eyes, and his whole body stiffens and his shoulders rise, pulling tight. He almost opens his mouth to snap something, but Ushijima shifts away the collar of his own uniform to show the thick grey strap of a sports bra underneath.

Goshiki deflates, and stares. First at the shown strap, then at Ushijima, and then last at the entire situation. He realizes in the grand scheme of being approached here, and now, that Ushijima is trying to shield him from the other students.

And he feels honored that he would consider that. Goshiki had come into this situation with his chin held high. He’d been told before that if he were going to do this with his life, he was going to have to hold the same confidence as his peers managed just by being who they were. Goshiki is who he is. That needs to be front and center. He’d worked hard, and played hard, and put forward the best effort he could. He’d heard through the whisperings of others he had a chance here.

He’d been the ace and captain of his middle school team, but it hadn’t been the same. He’d been on a different team, with different students, and they’d never known. Back then, he hadn’t had a choice. But he’d wanted to play, so he’d played. And he’d played  _ hard. _ And he’d earned that captain  _ and _ ace position fair and square.

This was different, though.

Coach Washijo might not be worried about who he is in that manner, but that didn’t mean the rest of the boys wouldn’t.

And without even knowing him, Ushijima Wakatoshi had stepped between him and the others. Nobody had said anything. Not  _ to _ him, or  _ about _ him, but he’d still put himself between Goshiki and the other boys, making himself a wall and a shield.

Because he knew. And he understood. On a level Goshiki had never actually seen in another person.

He’d always known himself well enough, and he’d been smart enough to find the words for what he meant and how he meant it. But this was entirely different. 

He’d never met another trans person before. And for Ushijima to recognize this in him, and put himself in the line of sight first, was more than Goshiki knew how to handle.

Goshiki was here to play volleyball, and win. He’d won in middle school. And Shiratorizawa was a powerhouse for a reason.

Looking up at Ushijima, and the stories he’s heard and the matches he’s seen, there is a profound feeling that slams into him, knocking the wind out of him.

Shiratorizawa isn’t good purely because Ushijima is a beast of a man on the court. It’s not his spikes. It’s not his setter’s devotion. It’s the fact that behind closed doors, Ushijima is here. He is putting himself between Goshiki and any potential harm, without thought. If he does that with the other members of the team, then of course they’re unstoppable. They trust him. 

And he trusts them!

He has to. If Ushijima is a very prominent and talented and  _ seen _ player, the captain of his team, and also trans... Goshiki had always known he was good. When he’d known he would be going to Shiratorizawa, he’d told himself he would become the ace and captain of that team, just as he’d been on his team in middle school. He’d known even before he’d met the man that he would surpass Ushijima Wakatoshi. He would be the star. 

But this was entirely different.

And yet, it changed nothing.

He was still going to surpass him. He was still going to be the star.

Except now, when he looks up at Ushijima, he knows it won’t be a knock down drag out fight. Where he thought it would be a cold and frigid climb to the summit, clawing and grasping at the mountain face and all the opportunities so precariously built- so easily crumbling under his feet- he doesn’t need to worry. It will be a trek they take together. As a team.

A warm and heavy hand lands solid on his shoulder and Goshiki’s attention snaps back into focus.

“You will make the team. But you will not endanger yourself doing so,” Ushijima reminds him. 

Goshiki nods hard, fists clenched in his shirt, answering, “Yes, sir.”

A curt nod, and Ushijima turns. He doesn’t know who he looks at, if he looks at anyone, but nobody looks past him at Goshiki, and he wonders if the simple act of placing himself between Goshiki and the other boys like he had was enough to ward off curious and cutting eyes.

\-----

Tendou and Reon both turn at the sound of heavy footfalls behind them. They’d hung back a bit to wait, but had eventually started out, as to be sure they wouldn’t be late. Ushijima comes to a slow walk behind them and the two part enough for him to stand between them, a natural movement for the three of them after they’d been friends this long.

“Deal with what you had to deal with, Wakatoshi-kun?” Tendou asks, taped fingers wrapped around a little carton of juice.

“I did.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Reon asks, searching Ushijima’s face.

Another curt nod, and Ushijima assures them, “I think he will be just fine. His name is Goshiki Tsutomu. Class 1 - 4. He will make the team.”

“You sound sure!” Tendou chirps, sucking on his carton that’s now empty, just to be sure it’s empty.

“His abilities speak for themselves. You couldn’t block two of his spikes. That’s more than most.”

Lips purse and Tendou drops his carton in a trash can as they pass, “I was going easy on them.”

“No, you weren’t,” Ushijima states.

He wasn’t. Tendou knew better than a lot of people that if he slacked on his blocking, he’d never hear the end of it. And he knew that slacking to give them an edge wasn’t going to help any of the newbies any. It’d just get them all into trouble. Tendou wasn’t about to start making trouble for people he didn’t even know yet.

“Goshiki, hm?” Reon asks, adjusting his bag. “He’ll make a good addition to the team.”

\-----

The uniform fits him nicely, Ushijima thinks, in a way that it suits him.

His hands are tight to his sides and his shoulders sit forward and squared. His jaw is set. But he looks happy. There’s a fire in his eyes now. He and four other first years were selected from the near dozen and a half who tried out. Those boys had gone home early, their heads in their hands.

“You five will be joining the team. You are not on the starting line up. You will train, and I will hone your skills. And if, by then, I find you suitable, you might have the honor. Until then, you will run laps. You will hit serves. You will block balls. You will do what I tell you, even if  _ you  _ don’t think it’s what you’re good at. I know what I saw, and you’re lucky to be here. Remember that.”

The five of them call their understanding in unison after Washijo falls silent. He moves to the sidelines and calls, “I want to see 15 spikes each. Semi, Shirabu.”

“Sir!”

There is no time to congratulate him on making the team. Ushijima had known he would. More importantly than that, though, Goshiki had known he would. That confidence follows him through his spikes.

It’s true that Ushijima has a distaste for people who boast and preen when they don’t have the proper skills to back it up and show for the efforts. But that’s not the case with Goshiki. It’s clear in how much of himself he puts into each of his spikes.

And each of his blocks.

And each of his serves.

Goshiki is nothing but dedicated, and Ushijima can see the eye of Washijo linger over him a lot.

Reon sees it too, speaking at his shoulder, a little out of breath after a long and hard practice, “He’ll be one of the starters. I can see the cogs turning in Washijo-san’s head.”

Ushijima nods in agreeance before adding, “He’ll be the ace after we graduate.”

“You know that already, huh?” Reon smiles, watching Goshiki as he wanders figure eights with his hands clasped on top of his head, panting hard. “Don’t let him go and get an ego so soon.”

Reon claps a hand on his back before he joins the others for stretches.

There is a moment where Goshiki looks across the court, and across the net, and stares right at Ushijima. His face is red from exertion. A sheen of sweat makes him shine under the light steaming in the windows.

He will be the ace.

The quiet contemplation that overtakes Ushijima when they gather to do their stretches isn’t different from his usual reserved nature.

\-----

“Ushijima-san!”

Turning from listening to the burble of conversation happening with a small group of the team, Ushijima sees Goshiki crossing the campus in his uniform to catch up to them. The rest slow to a stop to wait up, too, whether it be for Ushijima, or for the both of them.

“Hello, Goshiki,” Ushijima greets, looking him over.

“I-I needed to speak to you. If you have time?” He looks to the others with a pinch to his brows, but a quiet uncertainty to his eyes.

Ushijima follows his eyes to the others standing in a staggered group. Shirabu and Kawanishi are at the front, Semi and Yamagata behind them, and to either side of Ushijima, Reon and Tendou. Nobody says anything, but Tendou peeks around Ushijima’s arm with a smile for Goshiki.

“Is it a question that requires privacy?” Ushijima asks.

Goshiki’s eyes travel over each of his new teammates and answers briskly, “No.”

“Then join us for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Goshiki echoes, looking bewildered.

A few of the others look a little surprised too, but Ushijima nods once, confirming yes, he had in fact said dinner.

“We were going to the udon stop down nearby- come with us, Goshi-kun!” Tendou urges.

His grip on his bag on his shoulder creaks with the tightening of his fists. Nobody objects, even if a few look on skeptically. Mostly just Shirabu and Kawanishi. His jaw tightens up too before he bows his head quickly, “Alright. Thank you.”

Goshiki falls in line behind Ushijima when they start walking again. Nobody went back to their dorms to change from their uniforms, but a part of him is glad for that. The uniforms make him feel like he belongs here, with them, in this group.

When Ushijima, and by proxy, Reon, take a step to the right, Ushijima and Tendou looking expectantly, Goshiki takes the extra step forward and settles himself between them for the walk.

He’s a mix of emotions on the walk, and simply lets the team talk around him. He only answers when he’s asked a direct question, and most of it is what middle school he’d gone to, what position he’d played, if he knew anyone who’d come to Shiratorizawa from his middle school. All the typical things asked of a first year new to the team. It feels easy, even if he’s a rollercoaster of nerves.

When they’ve gotten to the restaurant, and taken a corner table that fits all of them and after the rustle of bags pushed under the table and jackets unbuttoned and ties loosened, they can finally relax. Here, together, away from the school and away from Washijo, they can just breathe and enjoy each other’s company. They’re not all the closest of friends, but they stick together. They have to.

“What was it you wanted to ask, Goshiki?” Ushijima asks over his menu.

Goshiki looks at the rest of the table in a circle before pursing his lips and, for a brief moment, staring into the middle distance. When he composes himself, he addresses Ushijima first, “I wanted to ask how many trans people you knew, and if anyone else on the team was,” but he turns his eyes  _ to _ the team and adds, “But I guess I could just ask them myself, now.”

There’s a beat of silence where no one says anything, and the only sound is the clink of dishes and quiet chatter elsewhere in the restaurant. All their eyes are on him.

Ushijima offers, “If you want to know, you should ask.”

Taking a deep breath to try to steel himself, nostrils flaring a little, “Alright!”

He still takes an extra moment to look at them all and heaves a breath, “How many members of the team are trans? Is it just Ushijima-san and I?”

A few hands go up before smiles scatter across faces and a couple more go up.

Goshiki stares in disbelief.

“Y-you- no.” Letting his head hang, he shivers a breath. His voice comes out quiet, a soft plea against his fears, “Please don’t be cruel.”

“No one is deceiving you, Goshiki,” Ushijima rumbles from his right, sliding him a glass of water. 

He looks up at him through his bangs and swallows hard before his eyes wander over the team again. Most expressions are a mix of mild amusement and quiet remorse for scaring the poor kid.

Semi, Shirabu, Tendou, and Yamagata? Alongside Ushijima and himself? This can’t be real.

Ushijima puts a hand up so that they can order food before they get into it, because he can tell from the way Goshiki is shifting around that he’s eager to know specifics. When everything is clear until food is ready, he gives a nod and a few of their teammates smile and smirk.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, trans man. I use he and him. The student body and teachers refer to me with such.”

Not everyone on the team is able to pass, so there are a few of them that use different pronouns in different places, for their own safety.

To Ushijima’s left, Reon offers a sweet smile, “I’m cis, though I’m demi and bi.”

Goshiki nods a couple of times.

“Nonbinary. I use they/them off campus, but he/him for convenience on campus.” Semi clarifies, and Goshiki nods, committing it to memory. He can’t stop looking at their cool hair and easy smile.

Shirabu glances at Ushijima first, something flickering over his eyes before he relents, “Trans man. He/him.” He doesn’t like talking about himself so personally. Semi gives him a look and he purses his lips, “No pronouns if you need to talk about me with strangers.”

Beside him, Kawanishi smiles a little, “I’m cis too, and bi.”

Tendou around the circle snickers, “You guys match.”

They get that a lot and neither Kawanishi, nor Reon, are ever bothered by it. It’s mostly just funny nonsense.

Yamagata gives a big and confident smile, “I’m a trans dude too.” He’s so sure in himself that it makes Goshiki’s chest tight to see it. It’s good. He tacks on with a slightly started look, “Oh, uh, he/him. I pass well enough you don’t have to worry. Nobody’s said anything about it yet.”

And then finally Tendou to Goshiki’s right throws up a peace sign. He hums a little before offering, “I don’t have specific words, I just know I’m not cis.”

“Are you… still figuring it out?” Goshiki tries.

“Not really,” Tendou smiles, “Never found anything that feels like me. So I’m just winging this whole gender circus one day at a time!”

“So what pronouns do you use?” he asks, curious with Tendou’s dynamic.

“Whatever works for you, buddy. Just read the vibes, I’m not gonna be offended.”

Goshiki stares for a few moments, caught up in the realization that someone can be so carefree and lackadaisical with their identity and that’s entirely alright. If it makes Tendou happy, that’s all that matters. 

Lifting a hand to rub at his mouth and jaw and really take all of it in, he startles only a fraction when Ushijima speaks up, “And you?”

Brows pinch, and Goshiki looks at each of his new teammates in turn, and a sense of ease washes over him. He’s never known people like himself. He’s never felt… safe. Not like this. He squares off his shoulders, draws a breath, and steels himself before stating, “Goshiki Tsutomu, genderfluid. I… usually use he/him, but if I’m feeling something different, I’ll- I’ll figure out a way to communicate that.”

The team smiles and Tendou coos, “Tsu-chaaaan,” already at ease with their newest player.

Reon is the first to offer, “A subtle color system, or a necklace or pin- quiet enough that teachers and other students won’t hone in on it, but enough that you can communicate your needs to us without having to be explicit about it if and when it changes on the fly?”

Goshiki blinks in surprise, eyebrows arching, “That… that’s a really good idea. Thank you, Reon-san.”

A smile and a little nod.

Food comes around in a few rounds and everyone digs in.

A few bites in, the sheen on Goshiki’s eyes spills over into fat tears that roll sluggishly down his cheeks. He keeps eating, even as his face reddens a little.

Tendou’s hand settles on his back, and he swallows hard. When he scrubs his face hard with his sleeve, there aren’t more tears that follow. Instead there’s an overwhelming warmth that comes off him, in his eyes, in his smile, and the way his shoulders relax.

Goshiki Tsutomu joins the starting line up soon after as a wing spiker and outside hitter. Training and practicing and playing and  _ winning  _ alongside Shiratorizawa’s ace is invaluable to him as their prospective ace. But more than that, Ushijima’s confidence in himself, his team, and the way he supports them, are really what stick with Goshiki going forward. 

Ushijima was a shield when he didn’t know he needed one, dependable and strong, and Goshiki models himself much the same. Reliable, steadfast, and above all, confident in himself.


End file.
